


a five-legged race might be a bad idea

by pepperfield



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Platonic Relationship, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperfield/pseuds/pepperfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two of you agreed years ago that you'd support each other's romantic efforts no matter what, and this hasn't changed even though you're both now the proud and baffled parents of twins.</p>
<p>But what you never expected was to fall for the same man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It is three in the morning and you are currently bouncing Dave in your arms trying to stem his crying. You don't know what set him off, but it's the third night in a row that you've been woken up by a shrieking baby, and you want to bury yourself in a mound of puppets and die. Roxy shuffles out from your bedroom, her hair a tangled bird's nest and her eyes drooping from fatigue. She looks utterly awful, and it warms your heart.  
  
"Here, here, I'll take 'im," she mumbles at you. She bundles your son up into the curve of her arms and murmurs soft, soothing noises. Dave only cries harder, which sets off an unhappy whine from Rose, still lying in her crib. You sigh and go pick up your daughter. Rose usually stays quiet and calm, but once she hears her brother crying, it's all over. Her sad little sniffles start up and then the whole family gets to enjoy more late night bonding while watching reruns of the kids' favorite show,  _Mr. Makara's Neighborhood_.  
  
Neither you nor Roxy need to go in to work tomorrow, thank god. Rose buries her face into your shoulder, and you rock her slowly back and forth. Her wispy hair tickles your neck as you walk around the room, trying to lull her back to sleep. Roxy's finally had some luck with Dave, probably by reciting some poetry as usual; Dave likes things with rhyme and rhythm. If it were earlier in the night, you'd turn on some music, but at this point you're too tired to do anything but try to sway your kids into submission.  
  
"C'mon, bed. Rose too," Roxy is half speaking and half yawning as she stumbles her way back to the bedroom, still holding Dave. You follow after, and watch her curl in around her son, while she waves you over. After placing Rose down beside her brother, you join them on the bed, curving inward to match Roxy, closing your family into a small circle. Sleep is tugging insistently at your limbs, deadening them to any feeling as your eyes start giving in. The last thing you see before you fall back asleep is Roxy's sweet smile as she brushes Rose's hair out of her eyes.   
  
\--  
  
Two years ago, you and Roxy decided in a drunken fit that you were both tired of being alone, and fuck social conventions, you were going to start a goddamn family together. Roxy is your best friend, your confidante, your gorgeous, lonely lifeline, and so what if the two of you weren't in love; she was the single most important person in your life. In fact, Roxy told you, she was certain that romance made people noticeably stupider. You both agreed that since you had no romantic feelings for each other, but still had the power of platonic love on your side, that whatever you were about to do would be the greatest idea ever known to mankind.  
  
You then proceeded to have the most awkward sex possibly imaginable.  
  
Seriously, it was half drunken fumbling and half carefully researched actions done to ensure optimal conception conditions. Roxy kept wriggling around and you were too drunk to keep good balance and kind of kept falling off her. At first, you'd been adamant about practicing safe sex, so she spent ten minutes looking for a condom before you both realized that contraceptives would completely defeat the point of this activity. But she had managed to find a book about childbirth and parenting, so then you attempted to make sense of the diagrams under the crappy lighting of your living room. Eventually, the two of you gave up and just bit the bullet, so to say. Everything was just annoyingly sweaty and the floor was uncomfortably hard, but by the time you noticed it was too difficult to move over to your bed, which was covered in hats anyway. When you had both finished, you laid there for a few minutes trying to decide if you were supposed to try again, or just wait and find out later if it worked. It didn't matter, since your partner had passed right out and was drooling onto the floor.  
  
The next morning, Roxy puked her guts out while you showered for about 2 hours, long past you had any hot water left. Afterwards, you both went down to the local pancake house and gorged on greasy breakfast foods. A miserable time was had by all, and you agreed to never go near one another's nether regions again.  
  
That wasn't hard to achieve; you and Roxy spent an inordinate amount of time literally sleeping together, whether on your futon, her tiny bed, or her ratty couch, and it wasn't like you'd never had sex with each other before, but it was always kind of weird and regrettable. You both decided to pretend to forget about that night and bury it under another layer of sarcasm and denial.  
  
No, it didn't hurt that nobody could ever fall in love with you. Not at all. No, you never resented that your shitty childhood left you wary of intimacy and marked the world as a sea of strangers. No, it was fine that no matter how much you cared for this beautiful, broken girl, and she for you, that it wasn't enough. At least you had someone to suffer with. At least loneliness could eat its way through both of you, slowly, steadily, as you ironically held hands, pretending to be the lovely couple you both knew you could never be.  
  
  
Your plan worked really well, and you remained blissfully ignorant of the activities of Roxy's lady parts, until she started feeling sore and vomiting all over the place. When you realized what the fuck was going on, you immediately stole all the booze in Roxy's house and then let her cry into your shirt as you made a ridiculously illegal bonfire with her alcohol. Watching the flames burn out, you told her about the damned amazing kid you were going to have. She dabbed at her blotchy face and hugged you close, and you wished so hard you could fall in love with her that it was physically painful.  
  
Nine months later, you found yourself getting the bones in your hands ground down to dust by Roxy's iron grip as she screamed her heart out. On December 3rd, the first of your poor, unfortunate spawn came into the world, joined shortly by his twin sister an hour, but one day, later.  
  
You were a father, and you'd be lying if you said this was what you wanted. But looking down at those two fragile, pale bodies, holding them, you understood that maybe they're what you needed. You needed proof that you could do something right, that the boundless and yet painfully inadequate love that you and Roxy had for one another could create something worthwhile, and that you weren't just doomed to be succeeded by a bunch of robots and puppets.  
  
Of course, you never had to worry about putting robots and puppets to sleep.  
  
\--  
  
Two weeks after Roxy confirmed her pregnancy, you found yourself sitting next to her on a sofa eating blueberry muffins whilst trying not to get crumbs stuck between the upholstered cushions. Jane, your other best friend, fluttered in and out of the room, with cups of tea, and soft pillows, until Roxy yanked her to a halt.  
  
"Janey, Jane, just stop movin' your butt for a sec and sit down. We don't need more snacks. Look at me, this bump isn't cause I got knocked up, it's cause I just ate half a dozen of these fuckin' mufnins. Muffins. Whatever."  
  
You agreed. "You've positively smothered us in baked goods. Our frail bodies may never recover."  
  
Jane sat down in a chair facing the two of you and gently smacked you with a cushion. "Oh, hush you. I'm trying to  _help_  you recover from your undoubtedly wretched month. Now, tell me again how all this transpired?"  
  
You told it to her like it was, with Roxy's input interspersed throughout, because Jane would want the whole story, flawed reasoning and all. She listened before sighing, and pulling both of you into a hug. You let her pat soothingly at your back, and breathed in the scent of blueberries lingering on her skin. There are few people in this world for whom you would drop everything, immediately, to help, and Jane is one of them. Just like she can count on you to have her back, you know that she'll always do whatever it takes to look out for you and Roxy, and that she'll stay constant and strong. She doesn't quite understand you in the same way Roxy does, doesn't share that bone deep hollowness, but the two of you connect in a way that has withstood time and disruptions that would sever a weaker friendship. Her presence is like the warmth of a thick blanket knitted with love: comforting, and a little itchy at times. Jane does kind of like to nag, but so do you, so fair's fair.  
  
The moment was broken when Roxy spoke up from where her face was pressed into Jane's bosom. "This is great, guys, and I'm having all sorts of feels right now, but it's really getting hard to breathe." Jane released her with an apologetic laugh and Roxy smiled back, clear and sober. "So...how do you feel about being a godmother, Janey?"  
  
That surprised a pleased gasp out of Jane, and her gaze flickered rapidly between the two of you. "Well, I'd be delighted of course, but does that mean you've decided to keep the baby?"  
  
You recognized the wistful look on Roxy's face when she rubbed her stomach, but there was a quiet fondness that wasn't normally there. "Yeah, we're gonna go through with this. I know it might seem pretty dumb, I mean, look at us, but the things we were thinking that night have been true for a long time. It wasn't just the alcohol talking, you know? It's probably stupid and fucking selfish of me, but I just. I really want someone to pour all of my love into, no bargaining, no tricks. Just someone to care about. And I know it'll be rough, but we're going to give our kid better than anything ever given to us." Her eyes caught yours, and there was that fierce burning again, the same unbroken determination that got her through the teenage years. Solitude had shaped you in different ways; where you were left brittle and aloof, Roxy grew wild and reached out for affection. But you both retained the same underlying steel that you see in her now.  
  
The two of you had talked though your decision for days, but you'd already kind of known what the result would be. Neither of you was fit for parenthood, which was the biggest deterrent, because it'd be just grand if you managed to raise a kid more fucked up than yourself. But was anyone ever really fit to be a parent when having a child for the first time? You weren't actually that much of a wreck; both of you had steady jobs that actually paid pretty damn well, and you kept each other in line and on schedule. You made sure Roxy remembered to eat and sleep when she went into a coding frenzy, and she kept you from dissociating from the outside world when your mind starting wandering too far. Would adding another human being to your lives be so terrible? The answer was apparently no, since you were sitting here now with Jane.  
  
Who was once again hugging Roxy to her, arms coiled tight around the blonde's waist and face hidden in her shoulder. "I'd love to be the godmother, Roxy. After all, what are bffsies for?" Roxy laughed into Jane's dark hair, and reached out a hand to find yours, which she gripped tight. Adjusting her glasses, Jane looked up at you with that same soundless question in her eyes that she gets,  _You know I'm here for you, right?_  
  
You nodded back and placed your free hand on her head in silent thanks. She pouted, before shaking you off like a puppy in the rain. "Anyhoo! I think this calls for a celebration, don't you?" she exclaimed as she released Roxy. "So I made you both a cake!"  
  
Simultaneously, you and Roxy both threw yourselves backwards onto the sofa with a groan. Jane gave a small huff of exasperation, before storming off to the kitchen to prepare your doom. Death by cake was a pretty pathetic way to go.  
  
\--  
  
The soft gurgling noises coming from over to your right break you out of the haze of half-consciousness still clinging to your brain. You turn slowly to see Dave staring at you and wriggling happily. Roxy is still asleep, keeping Dave reined in with her arm, and Rose wakes up soon after you. "Mama," she mumbles at you and you don't bother fighting your grin.  
  
"Not quite, kiddo, but close." You sit up and take a second to stretch the kinks out of your joints and put on your sunglasses, before reaching down and lifting Rose up into the air. She looks bemused, but waves her arms lazily, as if she's humoring you. Cheeky brat. Hefting her up against your shoulder with one arm, you slip Dave free of his mother's grasp and pull him up too.  
  
He initiates a staring contest against your shades and you remind yourself to buy the little guy a pair of his own. "Bo. Brobobuh. Bro," he babbles, and you shake your head firmly.  
  
"Also incorrect. I'm starting to think you kids have no idea how we're related." You carry both of them into the living room, and put them in the playpen momentarily as you turn on the TV and start flipping through channels, until...ah-ha. The cheerfully stoned voice of Mr. Makara lilts out from your speakers and the kids perk up at the sound. You lift them back out and flop down together on the carpet. Your puppets used to be all over the floor, but Jane made you remove them lest your children suffocate or develop some sort of complex. Speaking of whom, yep, that knock on the door is probably her right now.  
  
Soon after you told her the news, she started helping you look for a house in her suburb, which was fifteen minutes or so out from the city by car. You and Roxy actually had enough money to live somewhere nicer than where you were each staying, but habit kept you from moving. Also, since you and she spent half of the time crashing at each other's places, you didn't want to spend more cash on an apartment you wouldn't be living in full time. The impending baby just finally gave you guys the push to sort your shit out and move somewhere better. You now reside only a five to seven minute walk from Jane's house, so she stops in often to make sure you haven't died in some hilarious manner.  
  
Roxy, looking much like she did last night, zombie walks out of the bedroom to go answer the door. You and Dave try to sing along to the Lusus Song, while Rose is transfixed by the colors on the screen. Makara, for a children's show host, is a pretty damn good rapper. The whole alien clown routine is a tad hokey, though.  
  
With an armful of groceries, Jane bustles in, Roxy trundling along behind her. "I can see you're off to a late start today. Why don't you two freshen up while I make breakfast?" she offers. Roxy responds by wrapping herself like an octopus around Jane and her paper bag with a garbled thank you. Her hostage rolls her eyes from behind thin oval frames, and drags both herself and her new deadweight off to the kitchen. Ignoring them, you summon Jaspers with a sharp whistle, to come guard your unpenned children while you brush your teeth.  
  
He glides in with a metallic purr, and Rose reaches out with her stubby arms to be lifted. Jaspers was modified from an old scrapped bot, and Roxy thought it would be cute if he looked like a cat, which explains his feline head. You're not really sure why you gave him tentacle limbs, but they serve him well, and make it easy for the guy to grab the twins when they start crawling off. You leave him with your daughter curled up safely in one tentacle, and your son still captivated by the rapping clown on TV.  
  
As you swish minty froth around in your mouth, your reflection stares stoically back at you. You put your shades down to get a better look at your face. Five o'clock shadow is building on your chin, and there are more wrinkles around the corners of your eyes than last year. With your tousled hair and face flecked with toothpaste, you look the very picture of an exhausted suburban dad, especially when you're wearing these dorky gray sweatpants. At least you're still in shape. You ought to shave though; wouldn't want to accidentally give the kids stubble burn.  
  
After rinsing and donning your shades again, you go get dressed. Before leaving the room, you attempt to straighten out your hair, but just jam a hat on over it in the end. Your days of perfectly coiffed locks are over.  
  
Out in the living room, Jane is valiantly trying to feed Dave via L'il Cal, but she doesn't quite have the hang of it yet. Puppet limbs and mashed peas are flying everywhere as Dave dodges like a miniature pro. Good for him. You swoop in to save Jane, who informs you that there's toast, eggs, and muffins waiting for you in the kitchen. From the banging of cupboards, you suspect Roxy's up to something with your other kid in there.  
  
"You're a veritable domestic goddess, Crocker. You sure you don't want to move in with us?" Every two months or so, you make this offer.  
  
She flashes you that "no way, buster" grin. "And babysit you lot full time? I don't think so, Strider."  
  
You shrug, and trick Dave into eating more peas. "If you ever change your mind, we'll be waiting here with open arms."  
  
"I'm sure. Now, I'm afraid I've got some errands to run, but I'll see you later tonight for dinner?"  
  
"Of course." She reaches down and pinches Dave's cheek. He continues to dodge your spoon, unperturbed. "I'll be serving up my famous Strider meatloaf. You better not miss it."  
  
Jane releases Dave's face and gives you that skeptical look you know and love. "It isn't going to be puppet shaped again, is it?"  
  
"Nope, that's been played out. You'll have to wait and see what magnificent creation I have in mind this time."  
  
"I'll look forward to it! I think." She gives you one last smile, calls out a goodbye to Roxy, who you can hear dancing around with Rose, and is out the door.  
  
You sigh at Dave. "Your Aunt Jane just doesn't understand my genius, little guy." He frowns back at you thoughtfully and you take the chance you feed him another mouthful.  
  
\--  
  
When Roxy has finally showered, and the two of you clean up your kids, the whole family packs into the car to deal with your own errands for the day. You've been meaning to check out the local daycare, to see if it'd be a good fit for the twins. While you and Roxy can both do a good deal of work from home, it'll be nice to know what options you have for when the kids get a little older and you feel comfortable leaving them with someone else for a bit. The family splits in half, with Roxy taking Dave to the daycare while you and Rose go grocery shopping.  
  
With Rose strapped to your chest, you stroll into the local supermarket, hanging out by the fruit section while you check your phone for the shopping list. A quick glance at your email shows you that your best bro has sent you photos from his latest expedition, and you make a note to check it out later. It's been a while since you've seen Jake in person; the last time was during the kids' 1st birthday (which you celebrate over two days, just to be fair), when he showered them with toy guns and his collection of terrible children's cartoon movies. His last email said that he and his girlfriend would be back around the start of summer, so you should plan some sort of beach shindig. The twins haven't seen the ocean yet, and they'll probably hate it, but you should go anyway. That's what good parents do, force their children into awesome learning experiences.  
  
Which reminds you that you need to figure out more foods Dave is willing to eat. Rose just kind of puts up with everything quietly, and will at most make a scrunchy face if she doesn't like something, but Dave will dodge at triple speed if he hates the food. You head over to the baby food aisle, with Rose peeking out curiously at the store. You toss a whole bunch of applesauce into your cart, and hold up a bottle of mashed sweet potato for Rose to see. "What do you think? Will your brother go for it?"  
  
She blinks back calmly, before telling you, "No."  
  
"Yeah, I didn't think so either, but sucks to be him." You place a few of them in your cart. Over to your left, you hear a quiet chuckle, and you turn to see a man with a stroller examining some pureed beets. He's dressed like your average businessman, but his fedora adds a bit of flair. On anyone else, it would make them look like a tool, but for him it works. In the stroller are two dark-haired kids with impressively large front teeth. The girl burbles some happy noises at you, while her companion stares up at Rose. You crouch down so that your daughter is at the same elevation as them.  
  
"H'lo," Rose says without provocation. She speaks more clearly than Dave does at this point, as he enjoys mumbling to himself, but they both know a good set of words. Neither has ever managed to call you Dad though, but you don't really care.  
  
"Hi!!" The brunette pinwheels her arms around pretty spectacularly and Rose just nods back, like dealing with a hyper peer is old hat. The boy doesn't say anything, but he turns his toothy smile towards her.  
  
"Jade is somewhat excitable, so you might not want to get too close." The guy with the fedora is watching your interaction with some amusement. You can see from here that he's going just a little gray, and that his eyes are a clear blue. He looks to be older than you by some years, but not many. You're on guard, just in case he turns out to be a psycho, but honestly, your cursory reading of him says he's mostly harmless. Dude has an pink apron in his shopping cart; you mentally applaud his style.  
  
"Duly noted. This little man have a name?" The boy has blue eyes like fedora guy, who you're guessing is his dad.  
  
"That would be my son, John. He's not much of a talker yet, but he's a few months younger than Jade is, so it's to be expected." A few months? Can't be full-blooded siblings then, the timeline wouldn't make any sense. It's none of your business though, so you leave it alone.  
  
"Say 'hi' to John, Rosalita," you command. Rose turns and gives you this look, as if to say, " _that's not my name, you jackass,_ " but does what you say anyway. You can't wait until she can really talk; it'll be fantastic, and probably more than a little frightening.  
  
The fedora dude smiles, and says, "I apologize for being so forward but," whoa, wait, what's happening right now, "if your children are picky, they might enjoy eating finger foods. Cut into small pieces, of course. I've found that Jade really likes her fruit that way." Oh, advice. That's cool.  
  
"Thanks, I might try that out next time." You actually mean it, but all the same, you think Dave would just end up chucking food everywhere. Maybe if you made throwing stars out of apples...  
  
"You're quite welcome. Now, I'm terribly sorry, but we've got to run. There's an appointment we can't afford to miss." He looks genuinely apologetic about having to leave a stranger behind in a grocery store. Weird.  
  
"No problem. Uh, maybe we'll see you around." Except not really, because he's literally some random man you met while buying baby food.  
  
"Bye," Rose offers up, and the two kids wave energetically back as the guy wheels them away.  
  
"Have a nice afternoon!" is the last thing the man says as he turns around the aisle, and you shrug at Rose when she looks at you.  
  
"This is what life in the suburbs is like. Friendly mofos everywhere. You better get used to it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback so far, and sorry about the long wait!!
> 
> A few notes:
> 
> 1) Chapter POV will typically alternate between Dirk and Roxy.
> 
> 2) This is both a Dad-has-hair!AU and a Dad-has-a-name!AU, just in case anyone was wondering.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

You know you've got a job to do, but you and Dave just passed by this shmancy-fancy baby boutique, and normally you would walk right on by, because your 15 month old kids don't need none of those thousand dollar baby suits, but you spotted a pair of tiny sunglasses, and even though you know they're probably stupidly overpriced, trying stuff on never hurt anyone. So you march in like you belong there, among these other young mothers who have nice hair and smell like flowers, and pretend that they aren't pretending that you don't look like one of the unwashed masses. There's a whole display of munchkin sunglasses, what even the fuck, but you spot a pair that's a little pointier than the rest and pop them on Dave.  
  
He grabs them with his tiny fists and pulls them off, while looking kinda cool, you have to say. He stares at them for a second, and then tries to fumble them back onto his face, getting about halfway there. You help the guy out, because his struggles are pretty funny, but you are determined to be a good mom, and saving poor Dave from poking his eyes out garners you all sorts of Mom Cred.  
  
You ruffle his hair up a bit, and then stick a mini cap on his head, to try and make him look more like Dirk. It doesn't really work, but you snap a picture with your phone anyway, and send it to Janey and your babydaddy. You and Dirk both really hate that term, but it's just this side of tacky, enough that you guys use it to piss each other and yourselves off. That's just how you roll.  
  
"What's the diagnosis, Davey? Yea or nay?" You bring him to a wall mirror.  
  
Your slick little dudebro baby watches himself for a minute before drawling out, "Neeeeighhhh." You laugh and pull the accessories off, setting them back where you found them. Gotta stop reading the kids so many horse stories. You don't know if they're old enough to understand wizards yet, though. Maybe it's time to test the waters.  
  
But you've wasted too much time here, so you and Dave skedaddle and narrowly dodge plowing into another family on your way out. The daycare is a block or so down, so you carry Dave for about half of the trip, and then let him toddle alongside you for the rest. He almost trips once, but he's got those Strider ninja genes, so he rights himself before he goes tumbling away. What a trooper. You ruffle his hair some more, but now it just looks really silly.  
  
Outside Dewdrop Daycare you stop to straighten him out before stepping in. The first thing you take note of is the people in the room, but all there seems to be is a teenage girl, sitting at the welcome desk. Next you allow yourself to observe the scenery. The whole front room is decorated in pretty shades of blue and green, with the occasional dash of pink. It seems very aquatic, somehow, but it's cute. You can hear the sound of children laughing from outside the open window, and the bulletin board off to the side is well organized, but covered in crayon drawings. You can't see into any of the playrooms, from where you're standing. Overall, you like the atmosphere, and Dave seems enchanted by the wooden fish mobile hanging over the desk.  
  
The girl at the desk is sketching something on some scrap paper while absently moving the mouse around at her computer. When she sees you, she jumps up with a grin. "Hi there! Welcome to Dewdrop Daycare! The Director, Miss Feferi, isn't available right now, but I'd be happy to set up an appointment for you!"  
  
Aw man. You probably should have thought this through, but that's how it goes. You'll just have to come back again later.  
  
"Oh, thanks. That'd be great, actually. Is she in tomorrow at like 3-ish?" you ask.  
  
"Let's see..." she says, and looks something up on her computer. She's a cute kid, with freckles and a wild mess of dark hair tucked under a kitty hat. Looks like she's got some artistic skills too; the doodle on her paper is actually a pretty in-depth sketch of a man's torso, with scribbled notes about anatomy in the margins.  
  
She finishes checking, and smiles at you. "I think 3 would be perfect! Could I have you fill out this form please?"  
  
You take the papers and fill out the required information while Dave amuses himself with a bird plush in the waiting room.  
  
"Thanks, I'll put this right in. And here are some informative brochures for you to peruse before you return tomorrow. You can call this number here if there's anything else you'd like to know! Just ask for Nepeta." You like her chipper personality. There's something sort of odd about her accent, though.  
  
You accept the papers from her. "Thanks again for the help! We'll see you tomorrow then." Nepeta grins back, pretty and bright, and you and your son step out onto the sidewalk.  
  
Your common sense is telling you to call Dirk and see if there are other errands you need to run. But the fresh air and sunshine are telling you to screw that noise and go have some fun. Dave tugs you in the direction of a squirrel and that's that, you're going to the park.  
  
\--  
  
Dirk, for better or for worse, was actually your second boyfriend. Looking back on it, you both laugh over the experience, but at the time, it had seemed like a great idea. And maybe, just maybe, you'd had a little crush on the guy when you were around 14. You're not going to lie to yourself: Dirk's a good-looking guy, he's smart and funny in his off-kilter way, and he was the only one around who gave a fuck about you. You love Janey and the Jakester, but they were worlds away from you, out in the suburbs and wherever the fuck Jake's grandma used to travel.  
  
Your first year of high school had been marred by the horrifically public breakup with your first boyfriend, a grade A douchecanoe of the highest order. Guy probably has a royal commendation now for his douchiness. You hadn't been too attached to him. You'd begun dating cause the guy had asked you out; he thought you "seemed sweet" and "had a lot more class than the other girls in school". Honestly, you don't really know what drugs he was on, but it must've been the good stuff. Sure, you're an elegant fucking class act now, but when you were a teenager, you were a goddamn mess. Okay, even now, you generally look a little rumpled, but you're a new mom, and hey, you pull off the hot scientist look with nary an effort, so bleh.  
  
Anyway, this dude apparently took a look at you and thought you'd be easy, and why the fuck he thought that, you don't care to know, so he can just go screw himself. When he found out that despite your flirty behavior and risque jokes, you weren't going to jump in his bed anytime soon, he lost his barely post-pubescent head quickly and started trashing you in front of half the freshman class that lunch period. Dirk's a sweetheart, so he let you punch the bastard straight in the face once, before dragging you outta there. You got suspended for a day, but it was so worth it when you saw your "ex" missing a tooth or two once you returned to school.  
  
After that people tended to stay from you. Some were intrigued, and you made some superficial friends who were okay in their own right, but you'd learned long ago that you weren't letting anyone else in deep enough to see your core. You'd locked that tight in solidarity back when Dirk had done the same. Nobody realizes at first, because Dirk is intense and mysterious, and always tied up in his plots and projects, that his heart is just as soft and squishy and bloody as everyone else's. He does his best to repel those who would exploit that, but just in case, he's always got you there to back him up.  
  
So you'd hang with your friends sometimes, and they'd tease you about Strider, because obviously a guy and a gal can't be best buddies without wanting into each other's pants. Admittedly, around that time, you weren't much opposed to the idea, so you'd bring it up jokingly once in a while when you and Dirk hung out doing homework on his roof, or playing video games in your room, or watching TV down at Carapace Community Center.  
  
Eventually he must've had enough, because he put down his pen in the middle of algebra and said, "Okay, you know what, let's give it a go."  
  
You blinked at him for a minute, trying to finish the rest of your physics problem while processing what he said. "Wait, what, seriously? You wanna date?"  
  
He shrugged, and continued his homework. "Why not? Look, you seem to really want a boyfriend, and I know for a fact that none of those abject losers at school will understand you, whereas I practically have a Master's in Lalondology, so fuck it, let's try it out. The worst thing that could happen is that we make out a little and realize it sucks. So how about it, Ro-Lal? You want to go steady?"  
  
That's how you ended up on the phone with Jane later that night, flipping out a little about what to wear for your first date. She laughed at you. "Roxy, I'm fairly sure he knows everything in your wardrobe. Don't worry too much about it. Just have a good time!"  
  
And really, she was right. Dirk did know every piece of clothing you owned, just like you can tell the difference between all those hats he never wore. And you did have a good time, because it was easy and familiar, and he held your hand when he walked you home and even kissed your cheek before he said goodnight. Just the briefest flutter of a kiss, but your heart did a goofy little jump anyway, and you thought,  _Oh, is this love?_  
  
Of course it was love. It always is, when it comes to him. Whether it was romantic is one question, and the answer is probably, yes, for a time at least. There's something appealing about the person closest to you being your fated soulmate, and that thought's probably what kept you two dating for the few months that you did. You know now that he  _is_ your other half, and that you've been lucky enough to find one another and fight through life together. You just didn't fit with each other in the traditional sense.  
  
You finally found that out for good sitting on a couch one day. Dirk was in your kitchen, trying to choose between orange soda brands, and you were busy trying to beat the fifth stage boss in your game, hunched over and biting your lip. At the back of your mind, you vaguely registered him entering the room, but you were preoccupied with much more important things.  
  
"Hey, Rox?"  
  
"Not now, Strider. I got this mofo where I want him, just need to...c'mon land the hit, land it, block for fuck's sake, augh jeez, fuuuuuck, a few more...just...YES, HA MOTHERFUCKER EAT THAT, WHOOOOOO."  
  
You threw your controller on the couch and jumped up for a victory dance, shaking your butt as the cutscene played. Out of the corner your eye, you saw Dirk, leaning against the doorframe, glasses shoved up into into his hair, watching you at your most embarrassing with the open grin of someone who didn't give a fuck for once about the image he was projecting. Your eyes met, and you thought to yourself that you would do anything to always have him this happy, to create a space for him where he didn't need his walls. You'd bring him back from the void a thousand times over, and rebuild the world for him if he ever sought to burn it down. Anything, and everything, save yourself, because in his eyes you also saw that while he loved you, you didn't have his heart, because it was the same as yours.  
  
Your surprise burst forth immediately. "Oh my god, you're gay, aren't you?" you shouted.  
  
Like a cool dude, he didn't drop his soda, but he was certainly startled. "What makes you ask that?"  
  
"You totally are! Now that I think about it, it's super obvious in retrospect. You've always got these pictures of ripped dudes just standing around and your puppets are like ridiculously dick-shaped. Ughhhh, I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner! Here I've been forcing myself on you while-"  
  
"Hey, none of that." Dirk crossed the room in three large steps and took your flailing hands into his own. "You didn't force me to do anything. Dating you really isn't that much of a hardship, and while we don't have compatible orientations, I wasn't ever doing anything I didn't want to, okay?"  
  
You nodded numbly and he hugged you to him. Speaking over his shoulder, you asked, "So we should probably break up, huh?"  
  
"There's no rush. It's not like we have dudes lining up and down the streets begging to make honest men and women out of us. So maybe after the next date, at least."  
  
You smiled and squeezed him tighter. "You're just holding out 'cause it's my turn to pay, aren't you?"  
  
He laughed, the vibrations bouncing through you. "You found me out. That was my evil plan all along, detective. I'm a golddigger, what can I say."  
  
"I knew you only loved me for my mad amounts of cash." The two of you separated and sat back down on the couch. As you saved your game, you turned to him and nudged him with your elbow. "Hey, sorry about that. I didn't mean to push you into telling me or anything, but I'll support you no matter what, you know?"  
  
"Yeah, don't worry about it. I was probably going to say something soon, so you saved me some trouble." He placed a hand heavily on your shoulder. "I'll also support you, even if you turn out to be into blue space furries like Jake." You whacked him with his empty bottle.  
  
That was pretty much how your brief relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend went, though it wouldn't be the last time the two of you got up to activities a little beyond the scope of friendship. But everyone already knows how the most important of those hook-ups ends.  
  
\--  
  
Twisting the chains as tight as they'll go, you release your hold and the swing unwhirls dizzyingly. Dave lets out a scream of excitement as he literally spins out of control, and you worry for a minute he might hurl on you. But your little boy has a stronger constitution than that, and when he slows to a stop he giggles. What a cutie. He'll probably be a handful when he grows up, though. You scoop him back out of the swing seat and trot over to the sandbox.  
  
"Okay, kiddo, time to exercise your own motor skills. Do Uncle Jake proud and dig the heck outta that sand."  
  
He starts to burrow in, and you sit down and watch him. Some sand gets in his mouth and you have to clean it out before he spits on everything. After that little experience, he tries to walk away from the sandbox, and you roll your eyes. Such a city kid, just like his parents. "Hey, fine, let's try the slide instead."  
  
Over by the slide, you watch a young woman zoom down with her arms wrapped around her own kid. "Wheeee!" she cries as they fly off the slide with a little jump. Her kid has a pretty dour expression, while she has a friggin' boatload of curly brown hair and a beaming smile. She lets her son down, who looks kind of annoyed, but pulls her toward the slide again. "Ah, now wait a second, Sollux, that nice lady and boy want a turn too. We wait turns, remember?" She looks at you and gestures up. "Go ahead! It's pretty fun, even at my age!"  
  
You give her a salute, and start climbing up the ladder. "We have permission to board, Captain Strider. Buckle in, sir, it's gonna be a helluva ride." Making beeping noises, you hold him in front like the other mom was doing, and start counting down. "3...2...1...liftoff!" you yell, propelling the two of you down, even though it doesn't make much sense to descend into space. As you slide, the other mom makes a "whoooooosh" sound and raises her son up into the air, who gives in and laughs. With a whoop, you and Dave leap off the slide and land a few feet away. Dang, that was more exciting than you thought it'd be.  
  
"Thanks for the sound effects," you tell the mom. "I'm Roxy, this is Dave. We just moved in around here a few months back."  
  
"Welcome to the neighborhood! I'm Aradia; Sollux and I live a few blocks away and we like to come here and play when it's nice out." When Sollux hears his name, he wriggles out of Aradia's arms, and walks over to Dave. They stare each other down for a second, before Sollux turns away and heads toward the large tree. Dave totters after him with determination and they pick at the leaves and stones by the roots. Aradia laughs, a ringing, joyous sound. "Sollux isn't the most social of kids, and he doesn't even like the outdoors that much, but I think he might just be showing off right now." The two of you watch as Sollux throws a rock at tree, and Dave begins to copy him. Destructive habits and early-onset delinquency. He's definitely your son, alright.  
  
Aradia sits down on the nearby bench, folding her voluminous skirt under her neatly, beckoning you with her other hand. You follow her, and get up to a lively conversation about the best brand of diaper to use, how to deal with owning pets, and how to clean spitup out of your hair. Aradia imparts tidbits about this town like forbidden secrets of long-lost treasure: you learn about the tiny chocolate shop hidden behind the public library, the free concerts in this park every second thursday of the month, the summer rose garden tours, and the special shows at the observatory at the top of the hill. You're in the middle of telling her about the museums back in the city, and Dave's in the middle of snapping twigs with Sollux when your phone buzzes.  
  
You excuse yourself and check the screen. It's a text from Calliope:  _d_ _arling, i hate to be a bother, but coUld yoU stop by and see to the files on the mUse project? the boss is in a bit of a tizzy. thanks, love!_  
  
After sending back a quick,  _sure thign babe omw_ , you apologize to Aradia. "Sorry, this was awesome, but a work thing came up. Maybe we'll catch you here another time?"  
  
"Oh, no, of course, I understand. Would you like to exchange numbers? I think Sollux has really taken to Dave."  
  
You swap contact information and steal Dave away from his new friend, who waves goodbye reluctantly. You should set up a playdate sometime. They're nice folks.  
  
With Dave back in your arms (covered in quite a bit of dirt), you shoot a message to Dirk telling him where you're headed, and hop on the bus into the city. You've got your bag with you, so you're not too worried about Dave. He's somewhat tired out from his hard work, so he dozes off against you on your ride, and through your transfer onto the subway and off at your station. When you get to your workplace, which is a daunting set of three gray buildings on the outskirts of the financial district, you wake him up with a nudge. He'll be happy to see Callie. At the crosswalk, you teach Dave the valuable lesson of looking both ways before crossing the street, by looking both ways and then back at the sharp turn from which many a car comes charging, and running across as fast as possible.  
  
Swiping in with your ID, the two of you enter the lobby, stopping to say hi to the security guard. At the elevator, a sleek steel and glass monstrosity, you let Dave press the button for floor sixteen. He decides that the elevator should also stop at floors eight, ten, and fifteen. Whatever, you're not in that much of a rush, and there's no one else around. You take Dave over to the glass walls to see the view of the city below. In this corner of town, the people rushing back and forth are either mid-level suits or wayward tourists searching out the few gems in the rough alluded to in their guidebooks. A gaggle of schoolchildren cross the plaza toward the main street leading out to the city's cultural heart; one of them releases a balloon, and it bobs up alongside you like a kindred spirit until it floats up on a draft beyond your gaze, onto a journey of its own. Dave watches it as long as he can.  
  
When the doors finally open at your destination, you're met with the flurry of voices and keyboards clicking that always accompany the workflow of floor sixteen. You step out and weave through the people hurrying back and forth, catching and returning a few hellos along the way. Threading through the intricate maze of cubicles you arrive at Callie's desk by the west windows. You sneak up behind her to see her finishing up a report, typing away with her gloved fingers. Callie's a sweetheart and a total catch, as you've told her like a million times, but she's got a bit of a complex about her looks, including her hands. Poor, dear, precious Calliope. You're not gonna give up so easily on your best gal, though. She'll get it someday.  
  
"Lookit you, all usin' proper syntax and punctuation and shit. No wonder they don't let me do this job."  
  
Callie swivels around in surprise. "Oh! Roxy, you gave me a fright."  
  
"And now I'm gonna give you a baby. Can you watch Dave for me while I go run interference with the boss?"  
  
"Of course, love." You dangle Dave above her, and he babbles happily. Callie laughs and takes him from your arms, setting him in her lap. "Shall we learn all about the intricacies of spider solitaire?" you hear her say as you walk back out toward the isolated corner office, its shades drawn and door firmly closed. You eye the gold lettering embossed on the wood door and sigh. Better see what's wrong with the Muse Project this time.  
  
You rap once, twice, and the door opens slowly at its remote controlled pace and you enter. Words are exchanged within. You mustn't reveal any more than that.  
  
The basic situation is this: you oughta go check on what they did over in Lab 2B yesterday, because the boss certainly doesn't like it. You hope it's a fast fix, cause today was your day off, dammit. Mediocre scientists always be ruining your plans.  
  
After a quick dash back to Callie to tell her it'll be a little longer yet, you take the elevator back down and hurry out the main entrance. Lab 2B is located in the adjacent building. As you jog over to the lab, a man dressed in a casual suit cuts perpendicularly across your path a few feet ahead, aiming for the crosswalk. He doffs his hat to you in greeting and you smile back. You hadn't realized there were still guys who did that kinda thing.  
  
Unfortunately, as he's crossing the street, a strong gust of wind blows his hat clear off his head and into the road. He grabs for it, but it eludes him, skipping  over to the other lane of the road. The man starts after it, but you realize what's going to happen if he does, so you reach out and grab him roughly by the shirt and yank him back onto the sidewalk. And as you expected, a car rounds the blind turn with way too much speed, passing within a foot of the hat, right through where the man would've been standing. You breathe a sigh of relief. They really need to put a street sign up over there.  
  
"Sorry 'bout all the manhandling, but these are dangerous streets to be walking on. I've almost become roadkill here too many times to count," you explain as you remove your hand.  
  
The man turns around to look at you, a little wide-eyed, but not too worse for the wear. Now that you see him up close, you notice that he's good-looking, with a strong nose and bright blue eyes. You'd guess he's probably around thirty, or just shy of it; without the hat on, he's a little shorter than Dirk. He's kind of tragically your type. Eep.  
  
"Mademoiselle, please allow me to express my deepest gratitude for your actions just now. If you hadn't been so quick on your toes, why, I'd likely be a very injured man," he says in a rush, staring earnestly into your eyes. You can feel his gaze burning your soul, or some poetic bullshit like that.  
  
"Oh, uh wow, it's no problem, really, haha," you mumble, followed by a high-pitched laugh. Fucking hell, Lalonde, a hot guy thanks you and your higher brain functions go straight out the window. Instead of dazzling him with a roguish wink and a saucy one-liner, you continue your rapid descent into oblivion. "Just try to keep a tighter leash on that hat in the future," that doesn't even make any sense, what the fuck are you saying, "and brush up on your traffic safety rules. Wouldn't do to have that handsome face gettin' too acquainted with a fender. Anyway, I gotta scoot!"  
  
The man looks a little confused but he nods and sort of bows at you. With a crazed goodbye wave, you sprint the rest of the way to the other building without looking back until you're safely through the doors. Jesus fuck, you should've pulled the plug on that conversation way earlier.  
  
With a sigh, you take the stairs down to Lab 2B. Too bad you royally dropped the ball on that one. That guy was really hot and seemed sweet in an old-fashioned way. You try to console yourself by rationalizing that there's a possibility that he's a serial killer or infected with VD or something. This is why you can't get a date.  
  
It takes about ten minutes for you to sort out what the lab screwed up. Honestly, you're just here to code, not fix simple miscalculations. Do any of these people know any actual science?!  
  
You leave with a stack of papers they want you to look over; before you exit, you peek out the glass door to see if the man is still out there. Of course he isn't, and you look like a doofus. On your way back up to Dave, Dirk texts you to let you know he's on his way with Rose to pick you up. Well, there's always one man you can count on.  
  
\--  
  
With a shimmy, you slide behind Dirk and dump your chopped onions into the glass bowl. He turns off the sink and presses his wet hands against your cheek and you squeal.  
  
"Hey! This is delicate business here, mister. Keep your wet paws in check."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I ruin your very precise vegetable mixing?"  
  
"Yo, if this meatloaf turns out horribly, you're the one to blame. I hope you remember that when Jane's sad, sad, eyes look down at her dinner, catastrophically imbalanced in its vegetable distribution. You'll be the cause of Crocker tears, Dirk. You dick."  
  
"Roxy, you do know that we're going to be throwing all that magnificently chopped produce in the food processor, right?"  
  
"...well, shit, why the fuck was I trying so hard?"  
  
Dirk is most certainly rolling his eyes behind his glasses. "You're fired, Sous Chef Lalonde. Get outta my kitchen." He swats you away from the counter.  
  
You are totally cool with this. Dancing back out to the living room, you can see that the kids are still safely contained in their playpen. Dave is completely absorbed in spinning two little frisbees in circles, while muttering unintelligibly. Kids are so weird sometimes.  
  
Rose sees your shadow and looks up at you, tilting her head back until it bumps the wall of the pen. She smiles toothily and you shriek like a madwoman and swoop her out of the playpen and into the air. You love both your kids so much that you want to just spontaneously explode into Roxybits, but you've always wanted a daughter, to dress up like a wizard and dote on and teach how to fight, and Rose is such a perfect, cranky darling that it causes you physical pain sometimes. That might be a problem.  
  
In any case, you spin the two of you around until you collapse onto the couch with Rose sitting on your tummy. She gives you a good whack, and the air leaves your lungs. Oof. Your baby already knows how to fight. It dawns on you that you might just be an awful role model.  
  
"Rosey Rose Rose, don't grow up and start hating me yet, okay?"  
  
"Yes!" she replies enthusiastically, and you smile, even though you're pretty sure she doesn't get what you're saying. You sit up and put her back in the pen next to Dave, where she latches onto Maplehoof, her favorite pony plush (she has a least four; Dirk went fucking bonkers at the toy store), and watches her twin do his thing.  
  
You pull out your phone to snap a quick picture of them, and pause for a moment to look at your background. It's a photo from about half a year back: you're hugging Jane, who's holding Dave and sticking her tongue at Jake, who's bent over laughing with Rose cradled in one arm, and pulling Dirk into the frame with the other. Dave and Dirk are the only ones looking at the camera; Dave because he's intrigued by the blinking light, and Dirk because he wants to make sure the timer goes off properly. The picture's off-center and the lighting's kind of weird and no one's paying attention, but you love it anyway.  
  
Your family is perfect the way it is.


End file.
